


Promises, Promises

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Instincts, Brotherly Love, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 22:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Sam, Dean and Cas are celebrating their first Christmas in the bunker. Much to their surprise - or perhaps non-surprise - someone who should be very dead definitely isn't.





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first fic for Meg and Cas, so it's a little out of character, but I needed Meg to survive. In that respect, Crowley can eat a rock. Hate to love that guy, you know?

The first Christmas Cas has in the bunker after Meg’s death is a sad one. The boys know it even if Cas wishes that they didn’t. Still, they give him a glass of eggnog and tell him to enjoy. Dean lets on that, knowing Sam, it’s probably spiked. Cas doesn’t seem to mind, slowly sipping at it as he helps Sam decorate. 

“So... what exactly is the point of hanging glittering arrangements if they’re only going to make a mess?” 

“It’s supposed to be fun. The mess isn’t exactly what’s important.” 

Fun isn’t exactly in Cas’s mind right now. He only recently got his head back on straight since the whole Naomi debacle, and his being in the bunker has been good for all of them. Cas is doing shockingly well all things considered. 

Still, it’s pretty obvious to the two brothers that there’s someone in particular he’s missing. There’s a certain lack of blonde-haired demons around.... 

“Well, we’ve got a few options. Make ornaments out of popcorn or actually go out and find some. Pretend the tinsel is more than just glitz, maybe.” 

Dean shrugs. “I dunno. Cas? You feel like making popcorn decorations?” 

“I... don’t mind, I suppose.” 

He helps them set up and glue things together, his fingers splaying as the hot glue gets stringy. He waves his hand, trying to get it off. Sam snickers and Dean makes no effort to aid Cas, watching his expression get more confused. 

“I think there must be something wrong with my project.” 

“More the method than anything, Cas. Here.” Sam reaches across the worn tabletop. “Just hold still for a second while the glue cools down, then you’ll be able to tug it off.” 

“H-how long do I wait?” 

“Not long.” 

Once he’s free from the glue, they hang their new semi-decent popcorn ornaments. Cas stares long and hard at the tree, taking in the lopsided and leaning nature of it. 

Sam smiles. “Think we should start over?” 

Cas tilts his head, the barest trace of a grin crossing his mouth. “I think... it’s perfect.” 

After he says the words, the boys put on a little Christmas music. They play it quietly, since otherwise it ticks Dean off just a little bit. Cas soaks in the cheery tune, his head bouncing a little. 

They light the fire in the library, settling onto the couch in front of the tree as Sam pours refills of eggnog. Once everyone is settled, Dean hands out the few gifts that there are. There’s a straggler, one unknown box that none of them recognize, but they decide it can wait. 

Sam unwraps his gift from Dean first, laughing when he sees the bright green and pink flannels. He tugs out a bracelet from between them, the leather stiff but comfortable. He slips it on almost immediately, tightening the strings. Sam turns his wrist, noting the devil’s trap carved into the top corner and the warding against angels, demons and the like. No one with flingy fingers will be having any ideas about throwing Dean’s little brother across the room. 

“Thanks, Dean. I love it.” 

The statement brings back memories for Dean, so he opens up his present next, Cas waits with something akin to anticipation. It’s a mystery as to whether or not he’s ever felt such a thing, let alone has the ability to know what it is. 

The box contains a gun reminiscent of Dean’s own, but the etchings are what give the gun away. “Oh my-…. Sammy, is this-” 

“Our new Colt? Yeah. And the better news is that we’ve got all the ammo we could possibly need. Inscriptions are all the same... plus a few of my own invention.” 

Dean snickers. “We really can’t call it the Colt, can we?” 

“Nope, but I thought ‘The Winchester’ was too long. I also figured I’d leave the naming up to you.” 

Dean holds it in his hand, picking up the single unloaded magazine and pushing it inside. It’s a little stiff because it hasn’t been used much, but it’s gorgeous on all other counts. “Thanks, Sammy.” 

“It wasn’t just me. I had a little... angelic help.” 

Dean looks over to Cas. “You knew about this?” 

Cas nods, exasperation in his expression. “Contrary to your and Sam’s beliefs, I can keep a secret.” 

“Thanks guys, really.” 

He fiddles with it, taking out the mag and gingerly placing both pieces back in the box. Sam and Dean pick up their gifts from Cas and with for him to open Dean’s. He’s careful with the paper, pulling gently at the tape until the package is free. With a small smile, he shakes the box to drop the contents in his lap. 

Dean and Sam say nothing, waiting for him to decide what he thinks. The bracelet on top of the pile is much like Sam’s, but sans the angel warding. It’s woven together with three wide and flat pieces of leather 

He reads over the warding carved there, his eyes pausing on the one that would keep him from being expelled from his vessel by force. Another is protection from angels and demons, just like on Sam’s. The third that catches his attention is protection against witches. He’s had issues with them before, but he hadn’t realized that Dean noticed. Cas is certain the boys know some of the spells that could take him down, but would never use them. 

The one that really and truly catches his attention is one that sits right on top of his wrist should he be wearing it. 

It guards Castiel’s well-being quite intensely. The top part is a sigil, one that takes him a moment to place. If done properly, it should leave the taste of a lie on his tongue. The bottom half of the rune is one that states the band may only be removed by someone with good intentions towards him. Risking a glance at Sam’s, he softens seeing the same ones. The measures Dean takes to ensure they stay safe are almost a little too extreme. 

Kind, but extreme. 

The rest are all some form of warding or another, all of which are greatly appreciated. He puts it on, all the wards, sigils and spells wrapping around him like a blanket. Cas doesn’t think Dean understands the pure power of the bands, but maybe it’s better he doesn’t. “Thank you, Dean.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Sam opens Cas’s gift next, smiling softly at the poor wrapping. Inside, he finds a book bound in leather, each page written in a careful script that Sam only just recognizes are Cas’s. It reminds him of his dad’s journal, but twice as thick. Opening it to the middle, he realizes that it’s a dictionary. The inside of the first page is inscribed in Enochian, signed with what Sam would guess is his own name. The first twenty pages are grammar rules. The next ones after that explain exactly why there’s no such thing as an idiom. 

“Cas, this is... incredible.” 

“It was nothing.” 

Sam shakes his head with a smile. “No, it’s not. This is amazing. Thank you.” 

Cas’s shoulders lift a little and his mouth tips up awkwardly. “Y-you’re welcome.” 

Handling praise has never been Castiel’s strong suit. Complementing Cas only serves to make him uncomfortable, which is exactly why Sam and Dean work together to do so as often as possible. It’s hilarious, and it actually kind of endears them to their surrogate little brother. 

Odd how it never occurred to Sam until now that he’s actually the middle child now. Something about the thought niggles at him, but he can’t place his finger on it. 

Right. Adam. 

Dean lets Sam page through the translation for a few minutes before opening Cas’s gift to him. At first it simply looks like their usual demon knife, but the hilt is shaped differently. 

Cas offers him a smug-looking shrug when Dean looks up for an explanation. “Now you don’t have to share.” 

“You had both the time and the angel juice to swing time travel for this?” 

He winces. “Well... a little low on the supposed ‘juice’, but I made it anyway.” 

“I won’t even ask how many demons you had to kill for this.” Dean shakes his head, laughing as he brushes his fingers over the inscription. “You’re a Winchester, Cas. That’s for sure.” 

Sam immediately agrees with him, gently taking the blade when Dean gives it to him to look at. “No kidding. I gotta tell you though, it feels weird holding one without so many miles on it.” 

Dean snickers. “I know. It’s like a baby.” 

Cas picks up Sam’s gift, shaking it just a little to see if he can tell what’s in it. Picking at the tape, he unwraps the small package. The grin on his face when he sees the box set of Wile E. Coyote cartoons is almost wild. “You remembered.” 

“I thought you might like to see them all when you have free time.” 

It may be the least hunter-like gift among them, but the box of cartoons is important to him. It holds an innocence that Castiel sometimes struggles to remember exists. It has nothing to do with being an angel, or a warrior. 

“Thank you, Sam.” 

Sam nods, brushing his hair back and folding his hands over his knees. Cas looks to the last box under the tree, picking it up and looking for a tag. The box itself is square, but flat. Cas finds the tag in the corner and his squints at it. 

It says ‘Merry Christmas, Clarence’. He lays a hand on the wrapping paper, torn between confusion and something like outrage. “Is... this supposed to be a joke?” 

Dean and Sam both frown. “It wasn’t us.” 

His fingers follow the looping script. “No, I understand, but... even if it were a joke, this is... needlessly cruel.” 

“Well....” Dean scratches his head. “You may as well open it since it’s right there.” 

He tears the wrapping paper right off, discarding it quickly as he notes that it really is a pizza box. Opening the lid, all he finds in the bottom is a note. ‘Look behind you.’ 

Castiel’s brow furrows and he turns to face the door. The note slips from his fingers and his jaw drops when he sees Meg standing in the doorway. Sam turns first, slapping Dean as he stares. A flutter of wings interrupts the silence as Cas appears right in front of her. He reaches out, his hand shaking as he almost brushes her cheek. 

“You’re alive?” 

She smiles at him. “I’m standin’ right here, aren’t I?” 

“Sam.... h-he and Dean saw Crowley kill you. They watched you die, and I... I ran away, and didn’t even think-” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Clarence.” 

She grabs his tie and he willingly wraps his arms around her. The kiss that he places on her lips is passionate like their first, so Sam and Dean avert their eyes. Cas only pulls away from her when his question comes back to his mind. 

“How did you...?” 

Meg opens her mouth, but says nothing for a long moment. “I didn’t.” 

Castiel stares down at her with intense eyes, Sam and Dean excusing themselves and leaving the two of them alone together. They settle on the couch, keeping quiet until Cas touches her hair. 

“It’s back to your normal black.” 

She nods and her eyes almost flutter closed, but still says nothing. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Meg shakes her head. “Nothing, it’s just... I’m really tired. It took a lot more work to get in here than I gave Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb credit for.” 

“It is difficult to get into without permission. That is very true.” 

She leans over against his shoulder, sighing as he wraps his arm around her. “Will you... just hold me?” 

“Of course. You can sleep. I’m sure Sam and Dean are working on convincing the warding to let you stay in here right now. I’ll, uh, give you as long as you need.” 

She closes her eyes, curling her feet up onto the couch and leaning more fully against him. “Thanks, Castiel.” 

“I’ll keep you safe, Meg.” 

“’N don’t worry about... how I got back here. I’ll tell you in the morning. I’ll explain...” 

Cas quiets her, waiting for her to fall silent to tug a blanket over her small form. He stays with her through the night, thanking Sam and Dean when they tell him they’ve gotten the warding shifted to allow Meg to remain. For a building, it’s very temperamental about who resides within its walls. 

It’s a slow and homey morning in the bunker, Meg taking her time to wake up and the boys cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Sam offers the pair of them a little leftover eggnog. Meg says she’s never tried it before and Castiel assures her that it’s good. She sits down at the island with the rest of them, taking her serving from Dean with surprised (but happy) confusion. 

Sam gives her a fork for her eggs and then awkwardly stares for a few moments. 

Meg puts said fork down, crossing her arms on the table and leaning towards him. “If you want a picture, all you have to do is ask.” 

“Sorry... it’s just-” 

“I was dead. I get it.” 

Sam winces at her bluntness, but he presses on. “Yeah, but you were like.... seriously dead. Crowley stabbed you with an angel blade. We watched you die.” 

“It was a, uh... little gift I picked up from a witch a while back. Basically, if I die, then I come back in a few hours. Crowley would never have been able to tell unless he opened me up. Thankfully, he was more concerned with the angel tablet than checking to see if I was hexed.” 

Cas stands behind Meg, placing his hands on her shoulders. “A fact for which we are immeasurably grateful.” 

The boys settle down into comfortable silence, only breaking it every once in a while to point out something in the newspaper or to elbow the other with a joke. Eventually, Dean finds a case to work and they start their investigations as usual. Cas offers to work it with them, but they insist he stays behind to continue healing. Apparently, getting an angel tablet ripped out of your gut after being shot takes a lot out of you. 

Meg gives him a funny look when they tell him to stay home, but he gives her a look that hopefully conveys that he’ll explain after they leave. She’s patient about making him squirm, as is her way. 

“Well... I had the angel tablet. Crowley found out where I was, so he kidnapped me. He had... Ion, an angel, working for him. Crowley shot me and then pulled out the tablet through the hole. It’s... nothing.” 

She chuckles, turning towards him more fully and poking at him with a smile. “Aww. Makes me all tingly when you pretend gunshot wounds are an inconvenience.” 

Cas huffs, shifting closer and taking her hands. “Normally, they would be, but I suppose... angel blade bullets make more than scratches.” 

“Angel blade bullets, huh?” 

He squeezes her hands a little. “Unfortunately.” 

“You just get yourself into all kinds of trouble, don’t you, Clarence?” 

“So I’m told.” 

She taps at his side again, regarding him with curiosity in her expression. “So... I made you a promise before all of this. Does that mean I snuck a pizza into the freezer for nothing?” 

Cas glances down at his side where his mostly-healed bullet wound rests under Meg’s fingertips. “I don’t think there’s any fear of that.” 

“And the Pizzaman’s apprentice becomes the master.” 

“I didn’t know that pizzamen had-” 

She laughs, stretching up onto her tiptoes to tease him. While untrue, the words she almost whispers are filled with sentiment. “You’re much cuter when you’re not talking.” 


End file.
